


New Orleans

by evansrogerskitten



Category: Dean Winchester - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: 18+, BDSM, Dom/sub, F/M, Multi, NSFW, Restraints, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 15:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16287251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evansrogerskitten/pseuds/evansrogerskitten
Summary: Dean stumbles upon an old memory.





	New Orleans

**Author's Note:**

> For SPN Kink Bingo, Square Filled: Dom/sub

“So get this, I think I’ve tracked it to a library in New Orleans.” Sam launches into a description of the cursed Cajun object they’re tracking but Dean’s not listening.

For some reason his brain has spit out a memory he hasn’t thought of in a long time. He can’t believe it’s been thirteen years. A lot can happen in over a decade of death and terror.

“Dean?”

“What?” Dean responds gruffly, the accelerator pedal shifting under his boot.

“So I was saying about the first victim that...” Sam’s rambles on again but Dean is staring at the road ahead.

Dean remembers that night very well. It was 2005 and god, he’d been in way over his head. He’d just finished up the job in New Orleans, Dad wasn’t answering his calls, and Dean was starting to worry that maybe he should just suck it up and go to California and find Sam. But then his buddy Richie called, said he was a promoter at a new club and Dean should come to the opening. Last thing Richie said when he got off the line was, “Oh and Dean, clean up little and wear a nice black suit.”

That should’ve been a red flag. But Dean was twenty-six and cocky as hell, so when he arrived at the brand new club decorated in red lights, smoky shadows, and black marble he grabbed a beer and started chatting up a redhead. She was older, late thirties, and after a drink and a dirty bump and grind on the dance floor, she introduced him to a couple of her friends and invited him to a private party in a back room.

Dean blushes slightly as he remembers the rest. What was the woman’s name? Cherry? Sherry? She called the shots. The Cuban twins, Dean doesn’t even know if he got their names. There was a lot of good stuff at first, _really_ good stuff, just sitting back and licking salt off each other’s tequila covered lips before roaming fingers peeled off his suit. Yeah, that night was a first for a lot of things.

All these years later, he can still remember the struggle and then the freedom in deciding to give up control. The sex toys the women played with while he watched. The round bed Cherry Sherry restrained him to, snaps clipping into place. The slaps on his skin that stung so perfectly good he wept, wanting more. The orgasms that made him so high he trembled. He loved feeling weak under her, even though even he knew he had the strength to stop it. It was all too good. He didn’t understand the escape they’d shown him that night until he was much older.

He admits to himself that even under his killer alpha exterior there’s a submissive in him that was released that night. He owned it, letting her lead him, giving her the power even though he could stop it all in one sacred syllable. His tongue rolls over that word silently now, his own secret safety if there had been a need again since then. After the last decade of stress and agony and the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders- god, sometimes he wished he could give all that power over to someone again. Find that mix of pleasure and pain where he didn’t have to be the hero, didn’t have to be The Dean Winchester. Somewhere he could just consensually be at someone else’s mercy and find a safe space in that surrender. He wanted that chance again to trust someone else to test his limits and bring him back to zero.

“Dude,” Sam insists, getting his attention back. "What do you think about the plan?"

“What?” Dean grunts, looking up from the weary highway. He adjusts in his seat, realizing he’s getting hard from the memory. Whips and restraints have never been his thing, but New Orleans...Dean bites his lip and cranks up a Bad Company anthem on the radio. New Orleans was something else.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is property of evansrogerskitten. Characters aren’t mine, but this fanfiction is. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post.


End file.
